Melissa and Kleinschmidt must have been suspicious about the whole thing. Maybe they had gone to pick up her gun and followed Tony. There was another explanation that I tried to ignore, but it wouldn’t go away. Maybe the deadly little arrow had been intended for me. Not a comforting thought.
I paced the apartment, trying to decide what to do. Malone would know. I could take the slug to him and argue my way through his objections. Then ballistics could test it against the one that had injured Kleinschmidt. If they matched, I'd have all the answers. I grabbed the phone and called the post. Before they could answer I hung up.
What if Malone refused to help? An image of him pushing me at the gravel pit flared in my mind. On its heels was the memory of nearly drowning in Erhardt’s tub with Malone's hands on my throat. Had he really been trying to pull me up, or hold me under? Could I trust him? Can you really trust someone you’ve known for such a short time? And there was something else I wasn’t sure about. I'd never mentioned about seeing him stop on the trail between the slopes and the inn, talking to someone. Maybe it had been Melissa. Maybe all those glimpses of him I’d seen being friendly and charming with others, like David Erhardt and Sean O’Leary, was just an act. Maybe he was involved.
"Malone. Can I really trust you? Can I even mostly trust you?"
Things couldn’t have been spookier if he’d answered me. I grabbed my coat and bag and went back out to my car. Snow was starting to fall but I didn't notice it. I drove cautiously to the post and paced about the lobby until Malone came out.
"Hey, Jay." He bent down for a quick smooch. I turned away.
"Hey, Malone." I didn't know if my voice was as shaky as the rest of me.
"What's wrong?" He took my elbow and steered me down the hall to his office. I waited until he closed the door and repeated the question. "What's wrong?"
"I'm in trouble." My voice was a whisper. "I did something very stupid, trying to outsmart the bad guys. Now someone is dead."
Malone dropped to a knee in front of the chair I was sitting in. Gently he took one of my hands in his. "You're not making sense, Jamie. Slow down and tell me about it. Start from the beginning."
It took a lot of coaxing before I told him everything. I explained about meeting Tony and convincing him to help me get a slug from Melissa's revolver. About going to the Dizzy Duck, and finding him dead. Finally, I dug the bullet out of my pocket and handed it over with trembling fingers.
Malone turned it over in his palm and held it up to the light. He went to the phone behind his desk and punched up two numbers.
"Van Allen. Check the listing on the command board. I want whichever forensic guy is on call to come in and run a comparison for me….Ballistics….No, not in the morning, now, right now….Let me know when he's in."
He turned back to me. His voice was low. Malone spoke slowly, deliberately. Whether he was choosing his words carefully or trying to control his anger, I couldn’t tell. "Go home. As soon as we know if it's a match, I'll call you. That was a hell of a risk you took, Jamie. This isn’t some story you’re making up. This is reality. You might have been killed. For all you know, they might have been aiming for you."
I got to my feet. "You think Tony's death at the bar was a coincidence?"
Malone shrugged. "I don’t know what to think. Go home, Jamie."
I hesitated by the door. "Are you coming by tonight?"
"I don't know." Malone made no effort to see me out. He just sat there rolling the slug between his fingers, staring at the wall.
I drove slowly home through tears. Whether they were of anger or sadness, there was no distinguishing them. Thinking of Tony as I got out of the car reminded me of the Beretta still locked in the trunk. I slipped it in my jacket pocket and trudged up the stairs. At the landing for the third floor, I realized I hadn't locked the door on my way out. I'd been in such a hurry to see Malone, it hadn't seemed important. I let myself in and spun the lock behind me.
While everything was still fresh in my mind, I decided to get it down on the computer. What I really wanted to do was curl up in bed and cry, but I felt all cried out. If Malone came over or not, there was nothing I could do about it now. He had warned me about my obsession several times. Hell, way more than that. I'd blown it. The romance was over.
I felt chilled from the evening and huddled inside my jacket as I went into the spare bedroom. As I reached for the chair I noticed the glow on the computer. It was on.
The curse jumped from my lips in a snarl. “You arrogant son of a bitch."
Behind me the closet door creaked open. Kleinschmidt stepped out and leaned against the frame.
"I told you to leave it alone," he mumbled.
He shook his head slowly and stepped toward me. He was wearing jeans and a heavy wool jacket. His right arm was in the sleeve but it hung limply at his side. "I warned you, Jamie, but you wouldn't listen. You're too damn stubborn."
Melissa Hatcher appeared at the door to the hall. She was in jeans and the fringed suede jacket, the blonde hair pulled back severely in a tight ponytail. Her face was strained. "You nosy bitch. If you'd left it alone, none of this would have happened."
"You killed Tony." My voice was hoarse. I was choking on my words, trying to contain my anger.
"You got him involved, Jamie. You killed him," Melissa said bitterly. She brought her arms up in front of her. In her hands was a miniature crossbow. It was shaped like a pistol, with a ten-inch metal arrow held in place by a taut bowstring. There was no tremble in her hands as she aimed it at my chest.
"Put it down, Missy," Kleinschmidt said.
"She knows everything. She'll ruin it for us."
Kleinschmidt stepped between us and put his hand out toward her. "There's a better way. We know she's accident-prone. She'll slip and fall down the stairs and break her neck."
I turned slightly and slid my hand into my pocket. The Beretta felt cold and heavy in my grip. Was it ready? Or did I have to rack the slide before I could fire? I couldn't remember how I'd left it in the trunk. How much time did I have? Would I be able to hold them off?
Did I have what it takes to shoot another person?
"Wise up, Melissa," I said. "Two murders in the same night with a crossbow are a little uncommon. You don't think the cops will make the connection?"
She glared at me. "There's no way to trace a crossbow. They sell these things all over town."
"Shut up," Kleinschmidt said.
"You and your damn snooping," she sneered, "why couldn't you just leave us alone?"
"I don't know. Witnessing Kleinschmidt getting shot must have had something to do with it."
"You weren't supposed to be there," she hissed. "He was supposed to be alone, just like every other night."
The frustration was evident on his face. "I tried to call you. How many times do I have to explain this?" Kleinschmidt reached his good hand toward Melissa. "It's gone too far, Missy. I never meant for anyone else to get hurt." She took a step back in the hallway, beyond his reach.
"You should have thought about that before Tony was killed," I said quietly. My hand tightened around the Beretta's grip. Loaded or not? Why the hell hadn't I waited at the station with Malone? Why did I suddenly do as he said, after weeks of arrogantly following my own path? Where did my stubborn streak go?
"I knew something was wrong since that day I saw you at the gun range," Melissa said. She shifted her gaze to Kleinschmidt. "I told you she was getting too close."
"You should have ditched the gun, Melissa, and the jacket. That's what started me suspecting you." I turned slowly in profile, keeping my right side hidden from view.
Her eyes were wildly dancing back and forth. "You never saw me. There's nothing to connect me to the shooting." She tried to line up the arrow with my chest but Kleinschmidt was still in the way.
"Your jacket will help. I'll bet somewhere along the back is a section of fringe missing. The forensic guys will match the pieces they found in the truck with your jacket," I said calmly. Gently, I eased my gun out and held it against my leg. Could I really shoot one of them?
"If you hadn't meddled, none of this would have been necessary. Tony would still be alive. Nobody was going to get hurt." Melissa glanced back to Smitty. "Get out of the way. Let me finish it."
"No, Missy. We were only doing it for the money. You said we could retire on the pension and the lawsuit. But you never said anything about killing people." His voice had taken on a dead, wooden quality.
"It's not just fraud anymore, baby. We're talking murder. We can get away with it. I'll erase everything in the computer while you get rid of the body. No one will worry about her," Melissa pleaded.
"What about Malone?" I asked.
"Sarge won't forget about her that easily," Kleinschmidt agreed reluctantly.
"He told her to leave it alone," Melissa said. "We know that. He's probably pissed because she won't. Maybe he won't come around for a while. You know how stubborn he gets. We talked about it up at Boyne."
So it had been her! Malone had been my only hope of rescue. I couldn't believe I'd been so wrong about him. All this time, he was involved in the shooting. My mind went over the scenes of the weekend again. He had been trying to get rid of me! The bastard. I couldn’t believe how devious he was. Maybe this whole romance had been simply his way of keeping tabs on me.
I'd had enough. My temper took over. Rage was boiling in my stomach, churning its way up my chest and my throat. He’d played me like a naïve patsy. I was just some stupid girl, swooning over the handsome cop and his romantic moves. That made me angrier than what Melissa and Kleinschmidt had done. I brought the gun up, and aimed it at Melissa's head. Hell, I’d had more than enough.
"Put the crossbow down." My own voice sounded cold and calculating. Ace Richmond, Private Eye had decided to join the party.
"She's got a gun." Kleinschmidt took a step toward me.
"You sorry son of a bitch," I hissed.
"Give me the gun," he said, raising his left hand.
"Herman, get out of the way!" Melissa screamed. His bulk was efficiently blocking her shot with the crossbow and he was directly in my line of fire.
"Give me the gun," he repeated, stepping closer.
"No fucking way!" He was only six feet away. If he lunged, he could yank the Beretta of my hand. I was through being subjected to this, being made a fool of.
“Give me the gun.”
"Fuck you, Smitty." My hand tightened on the grip.
“Give me the..."
The roar of the Beretta interrupted any further argument.
Kleinschmidt crumpled on the floor, clutching his right thigh with his left hand. At the last second, I'd instinctively lowered the barrel while squeezing off a round. I'd been aiming at his knee, but my shot went high. As Kleinschmidt was falling, I caught a glimmer of movement from the hallway. An image of Tony with an arrow sticking out of his chest raced through my mind. I fell to my knees and rolled to the right, waiting for the dart to puncture my heart. My ears were ringing with the echo of the gunshot. In the distance, I could hear Kleinschmidt's groans from the floor.
The mind is a complex thing. Mine picks the strangest times to behave illogically. Right now, I'm trying to concentrate on survival, particularly my own. But important thoughts like where Melissa was and why hadn't she tried to play William Tell with my skull yet rambled through my skull. Yet the only thing my brain could focus on was Malone's soft voice calling my name. "Jamie, Jamie, Jamie…"
"Hey, Jay."
He was standing in the doorway, the little crossbow dangling loosely from his fingers. It was empty. Behind him was Trooper Rothman, squeezing Melissa Hatcher by the arms.
"Hey, Malone." My voice didn't sound so good.
"Put the gun down, Jay. It's over."
"Can I trust you, Malone?"
Disappointment flooded his face. "The hell kind of question is that? Of course you can trust me! You were right. Ballistics matched the slug from the crime scene. I tried to call, but your phone is out. I was afraid you might be in trouble."
"They were going to kill me, Malone." My legs weren't working. I realized I couldn't stand up.
"They tried, Jay." He pointed at the computer. The arrow from the crossbow had pierced the monitor screen. Shards of glass poked out from the cabinet as thin wisps of smoke rose toward the ceiling. Scratch one flat screen monitor. No warranty in the world covers violent attacks.
"Holy shit," I whispered.
"Damn right," Malone said. Behind him I saw Rothman put the handcuffs on Melissa and haul her out of the apartment. I was still on my knees beside my desk. "I’m sorry, Jay. I should have listened. I just couldn't accept the idea." Malone squatted down beside me and gently pried the Beretta from my fingers. Then he went down the hall and came back with a bath towel. He deftly ripped it into sections and used them to patch up Kleinschmidt until the ambulance arrived.
"Sorry, Sarge," he muttered. "It was never supposed to go this far."
"We're all sorry, Kleinschmidt." Malone shook his head sadly then looked toward me. "It's over, Jamie. It’s finally over."
* * * *
Rothman returned with the ambulance attendants. They checked Kleinschmidt over and strapped him to a stretcher. His prognosis was better than the last time. Apparently the bullet had passed through cleanly and hadn't even nicked the bone. The medics were optimistic. He'd get stitched up and pumped full of antibiotics before Rothman carted him off to jail.
When they left I was sitting on my desk chair, pressing my hands between my knees to keep them from shaking. My eyes kept going back to the dark bloodstains on my carpet. Boy, there wasn’t a chance in hell of getting my security deposit back by moving out before my lease was up. Now there would be a cleaning fee too.
Rothman cleared his throat. "Anything I can do, Sarge?"
"Give us a second, Marty." He removed the clip from my gun and racked the slide, ejecting the round in the chamber. Then he handed everything over to Rothman. “Make sure it gets logged in properly.”
"You bet."
"We have to go in and file a report, Jamie. When that's over, I'll bring you home."
I was numb from the eyebrows down. "Whatever you say, Malone, but walking isn't going to be easy."
My favorite smile appeared. "I'll help."
At the station I told my version of the evening's events while Malone and Rothman listened. They kept the coffee coming and I drank enough to float a canoe before it was over. Trooper Van Allen came in with a report on Kleinschmidt. He was released from the hospital and was being held in the Plymouth jail, pending his preliminary hearing. Kleinschmidt would be charged with conspiracy to commit fraud, accessory to murder and attempted murder, among other things. The situation didn't look too good for him and Melissa. Van Allen left and a few moments later, Trooper Billings entered the conference room.
"That female you arrested is no newcomer, Sarge."
"What did you learn, Leo?"
"Melissa Hatcher's got a history of four arrests for confidence games, plus a misdemeanor charge of soliciting and one for possession of marijuana. Apparently she was able to persuade Kleinschmidt that once the governor laid him off, this would be his only way to get even. His career in police work would be over." Billings unwrapped two sticks of gum and worked them into his mouth.
"You talk to Kleinschmidt?" Rothman asked.
"He admitted everything. Claims he loves the girl. Melissa told him she'd leave if he didn't go along with her plan. She even had some sleazy lawyer preparing to sue the state and the department, for putting his life in jeopardy."
Malone shook his head. "She might have gotten away with it."
"None of us would have ever believed Kleinschmidt was involved in his own shooting." Billings said. "You guys all done here?"
"Yeah." Malone glanced at his watch then got to his feet. "Wait here while I change, Jamie. Then I'll drive you home."
I nodded and concentrated on my coffee. I didn't trust my mouth to do any work for me right now other than consume caffeine.
Before we could leave the post, Bert Nowalski arrived, bursting through the conference room door like a grizzly bear with his ass on fire. He didn’t say a word, merely hooked a forefinger in my direction and led me to his office.
“Start talking,” he grumbled, slamming the door behind us. “And you can save the big words. What in the name of Brenda freaking Starr is going on?”
I’d been dreading this confrontation. Surprisingly, I was able to summarize the whole thing in eight short sentences. “Kleinschmidt and his girlfriend staged the shooting. A lawsuit and insurance money to offset the layoff was their motive. I tipped to it when I kept bumping into them. They killed a guy who brought me a slug from her gun. Ballistics matched. They confronted me at home. I shot Kleinschmidt. Malone grabbed the girl.”
Bert didn’t say a word. He just kept staring at me. Then he seemed to absorb what I’d said with one deep breath.
“You okay?”
“Wobbly, but no wounds, if that’s what you mean.” I moved toward him and wrapped my arms around his back. He held me close.
“You scared the hell out of me, Jay.”
“I’m sorry, Bert.”
“Vera knows anything about this?”
I shook my head. “She’s in Maui for the holidays. No need to spoil her vacation.”
“When isn’t she on vacation?” he muttered.
“It’s easier this way. I like being on my own.”
He moved me out to arm’s length and looked me in the eye. “Probably shouldn’t be on your own tonight. You could come to my place.”
I blushed. “Actually, I won’t be alone.”
“You’re dating again?” There was a hint of disbelief in his voice.
“For almost three months now.”
He watched as my embarrassment darkened my face even further. “That’s about the same time all this started. Are you telling me…?”
A knock on the door saved the day. Or so I thought. Malone poked his head in when Bert called out. Even from here I could tell that he was no longer in uniform.
“Sorry, Captain. Jamie, whenever you’re ready, let me know. I’ll be in the lobby.” He quickly pulled the door shut.
Bert stared at me for a long moment. After the first few beats, I couldn’t meet his eyes. He realized he was still holding me at arm’s length. Bert relaxed his grip for a second then slowly pulled me back for another hug. Two hugs in the same night. I felt like a safe teenage girl the way he’d wrapped those paternal arms around me. The fact I no longer was an innocent young girl made me a little sad, on top of everything else. I gradually pulled back before I started crying again.
“Malone? Jamie, I thought you of all people would know better than to get involved with a cop.”
I wiped a smudge of makeup off his cheek. “So what’s wrong with cops? I can think of at least one I’m particularly fond of.”
Bert rewarded me with that snort of laughter. “You’re a piece of work, Jamie Rae. Malone’s a good man. Probably the best cop I ever worked with.”
I gave him a kiss then turned for the door. Inspiration struck as I opened it.
“Hey, Bert. What’s Malone’s first name?”
The face splitting smile returned. “Sergeant.”